StarDate Podcast

Saturn is a “superior” planet. Among other things, it’s the second-largest and second-heaviest planet in the solar system. Technically, though, what makes it “superior” is its location. It’s the sixth planet from the Sun, so its orbit is outside Earth’s orbit. Superior planets can line up opposite the Sun in our sky – a point known as opposition. And that’s what Saturn is doing now. It’ll reach that point early Sunday. So for a while, it’ll be in the sky all night, and shine brightest for the year. Only a few planets and stars will outshine it. A planet looks especially bright at opposition for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it’s closest to Earth. Saturn, for example, will be about a hundred million miles closer than average. Another reason is the viewing angle. At opposition, a planet is reflecting more sunlight directly toward Earth than at any other time. In effect, the planet is a more efficient “mirror.” We see the same effect with the Moon. A full Moon – which also is in a “superior” position – is about six times brighter than a half Moon. The change in the Moon’s brightness is complicated by other factors, but the principle is the same – a superior Moon puts in a superior show – just like the superior planet Saturn. Saturn is low in the east at nightfall. It looks like a bright star. It climbs high across the south during the night, and is low in the west at dawn. Script by Damond Benningfield

This isn’t a sound effect from a sci-fi movie. Instead, it’s the “voice” of the auroras on the planet Saturn – radio waves that have been shifted to wavelengths we can hear. They were recorded by the Cassini spacecraft as it closed in on Saturn two decades ago. The radio waves are produced by the complex interplay between Saturn’s magnetic field and the solar wind – a steady flow of charged particles from the Sun. Motions deep inside the planet generate the magnetic field, which is about as strong as Earth’s. But because Saturn is much bigger than Earth, its magnetic field is much bigger as well – it fills a huge volume of space. The magnetic field forms a teardrop-shaped “bubble” around Saturn. That bubble deflects much of the solar wind. But some of the particles make it through. The lines of magnetic force guide some of them toward the magnetic poles. They spiral in, emitting radio waves as they do so. And when the particles hit the upper atmosphere, they create auroras – shimmering curtains powered by the Sun. Saturn is putting in its best appearance of the year. It’s at opposition – it lines up opposite the Sun. It’s closest to Earth, so it shines brightest. And it’s in view all night. The giant planet looks like a bright golden star. It’s low in the east at nightfall, and climbs high across the south later on. Script by Damond Benningfield

Saturn puts in its best appearance of the year over the next few nights. On Sunday, it’ll reach opposition – it will line up opposite the Sun. It’s closest to Earth at opposition, so it shines brightest. And it’s in view all night. It looks like a bright golden star. It’s low in the east at nightfall, and climbs high across the south later on. Saturn reaches opposition every 12 and a half months – the result of the combined motions of Saturn and Earth. Earth orbits the Sun at an average speed of about 67,000 miles per hour. Saturn is more than nine times farther from the Sun. And thanks to the laws of orbital motion, it moves only a third as fast as Earth. Johannes Kepler formulated those laws four centuries ago. He determined that the planets follow elliptical orbits; instead of perfect circles, the orbits are stretched out. There’s a relationship between the planet’s distance and its orbital period – the time it takes to make one full turn around the Sun. And a planet moves fastest when it’s closest to the Sun, and slowest when it’s farthest. Earth’s distance varies by only about three percent, so there’s not much change in its orbital speed. But Saturn’s distance varies by more than 10 percent, so there’s a bigger change in its speed. All of this works together to bring Saturn into alignment every 12 and a half months – shining at its best. More about Saturn tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

To modern eyes, the stars of Sagittarius form the outline of a teapot. But in Greek mythology, the constellation was far more extensive. It represented a centaur – half-man, half-horse – holding a bow and arrow. And the brightest star in the constellation plays a role in both of those pictures. Kaus Australis is at the lower right corner of the teapot. It also represents the southern end of the bow – in fact, that’s the meaning of its name. It’s actually a binary – two stars in a wide orbit around one another. One of the stars is like the Sun. But from the system’s distance of about 145 light-years, it’s much too faint to see with the eye alone. The star we can see is much bigger and heavier than the Sun, and about 500 times brighter. And it spins in a hurry – once every 1.6 days, compared to almost four weeks for the Sun. If it were spinning just a little faster, it would rip itself apart. In fact, it’s closer to that self-destruct point than any other star yet seen. As a result of its rotation, the star is squashed – it’s about a third wider through the equator than the poles. And because they’re closer to the star’s core, the poles are thousands of degrees hotter than the equator. Astronomers can’t explain the star’s high-speed rotation. The star could be siphoning gas from a much-closer companion that’s hidden from view – spinning up the tip of the archer’s bow. Script by Damond Benningfield

Galaxies aren’t good neighbors. They can stretch and pull the galaxies around them, rip them apart, and even gobble them up. A case in point is the Magellanic Clouds – the largest satellite galaxies of the Milky Way. The Large Magellanic Cloud is about 165,000 light-years away. It’s about a third as wide as the Milky Way, and perhaps one-tenth as massive. The small cloud is a little smaller and farther away. Both of them are being distorted by the Milky Way’s gravity. And both may be incorporated into the Milky Way billions of years from now. But they’re also interacting with each other. In fact, a recent study says the gravity of the large cloud may be ripping the smaller one apart. Researchers have studied the system for more than a decade from an observatory in Chile. They’ve measured the motions of millions of stars. And they found that the stars in the Small Magellanic Cloud aren’t moving the way they expected. Most models say the galaxy forms a rotating disk, like the Milky Way. But the observations revealed that most of the stars are moving outward – away from the center of the galaxy. And that applied even to the stars in the center itself. The most likely cause is the pull of the Large Magellanic Cloud. Its gravity is dragging the stars away from their galactic home. That could eventually rip the smaller galaxy apart – leaving only some shredded remnants for the Milky Way. Script by Damond Benningfield

If you’re searching for life on another world, you don’t want to find life that’s hitchhiked from Earth. But preventing contamination isn’t easy. Over the past few decades, we’ve identified quite a few worlds in the outer solar system that could be habitable. These worlds are coated with frozen water. But they could have oceans of liquid water below the crust. Those oceans could supply the minerals and the energy needed for life. So scientists are especially interested in them. But they want to make sure that any life they find really is native. So every mission to these worlds goes through a careful process of sterilization. But building and launching a spacecraft requires hands-on contact by hundreds of people. They build the instruments, assemble the spacecraft, test it, and attach it to its booster. Much of the work is done in high-level cleanrooms. Along the way, the spacecraft and its components may be cleaned with chemicals, baked at high temperatures, or zapped with radiation – all to prevent Earthly “bugs” from catching a ride. One especially interesting target is Enceladus, a moon of Saturn. It has a buried ocean, but some of its water shoots into space. Some of it falls back onto the surface – perhaps making it easier to find native life on this icy world. Saturn is close to the right of our own moon in early evening. It looks like a bright star. It’ll stay close to the Moon all night. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon is full today. But it’s not just any old full Moon. It’s the best-known of them all: the Harvest Moon – the subject of books, music, and lots of fall festivals. In centuries past, the Harvest Moon was much more than a pop-culture event. It provided enough light for farmers to harvest their crops well into the night. And at high northern latitudes, it helped out for several nights in a row. Officially, the Harvest Moon is the full Moon that’s closest to the fall equinox. That put it around harvest time – especially at higher latitudes, where autumn frosts soon would blanket the night. Without artificial lights to help them out, farmers relied on the Moon to add hours to their work time. The Moon is bright enough to help for several nights before and after it’s full. And thanks to the angle at which it climbs into the sky, for latitudes north of about Milwaukee or Minneapolis it rises only a few minutes later each night. So farmers in such high northerly climes didn’t have to wait around for the Moon to rise – they could keep on harvesting through the twilight and into the night. Tonight, the planet Saturn is quite close below the Moon at nightfall, and stays close throughout the night. It looks like a bright star. Like the full Moon, it’s about to line up opposite the Sun – setting up its own prime viewing time. We’ll have more about Saturn and the Moon tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

Neptune has lost its vibrancy. The planet itself hasn’t changed – only our perception of it – the result of a bit of creative license exercised 37 years ago. Neptune is the Sun’s fourth-largest planet – four times the diameter of Earth. But it’s also the most-distant major planet – 30 times farther from the Sun than Earth is. Our only close look at Neptune came in August 1989, when Voyager 2 flew just 3,000 miles above its cloudtops. It transmitted hundreds of pictures of the planet. They revealed white bands of clouds racing through Neptune’s atmosphere, and a massive storm – the Great Dark Spot. In most of the pictures, Neptune has a deep cerulean palette. But a couple of years ago, a team reprocessed the images. The original project team had enhanced the planet’s color and contrast. That revealed details in the atmosphere that otherwise wouldn’t show up. But it also concealed Neptune’s true appearance: a pale blue-green. So Neptune isn’t as vibrant as it seemed – but it’s still an amazing world far from the Sun. Neptune is closest to Earth today for the entire year. It shines at its brightest, and it’s in the sky all night. You still need help to see it. But its location is easy to spot. As night falls, it’s about half way between the full Moon – the Harvest Moon – and the planet Saturn, which looks like a bright star to the lower left of the Moon. Script by Damond Benningfield

The largest moon of Neptune was an agent of chaos. It wasn’t born with Neptune itself. Instead, it was captured by the giant planet. As it spiraled in, it might have hit one of Neptune’s existing moons. And it scattered the others – knocking some of them out of orbit. Only one of them might have survived. There’s a lot of evidence of that idea. Triton is about the same size and composition as Pluto. It contains more than 99 percent of the total mass of Neptune’s moons and rings. And it orbits in the opposite direction from Neptune’s rotation. There’s no way for a moon to form in that kind of orbit, so Triton must have formed elsewhere in the solar system. It was captured when Neptune was young. It might have caromed off an existing moon. Or it might have had a companion. When the duo passed close to Neptune, it was ripped apart – Triton entered orbit, while its sibling was kicked off on its own. Triton then bludgeoned its way through the system. A recent study says the only surviving moon is Nereid, Neptune’s third-largest moon. Researchers looked at it with Webb Space Telescope. They found that it’s made of the same materials as the moons of Uranus – not the other moons of Neptune. That suggests it was born with the planet, and survived Triton’s chaotic arrival. Neptune is at its brightest this week. It’s in the east at nightfall, to the upper right of the bright planet Saturn. But you need a telescope to see it. More tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

It’s not often that someone hands an astronomer a major discovery. But that’s what happened 180 years ago today. German astronomer Johann Galle, the director of Berlin Observatory, received a letter from Urbain Le Verrier. The French astronomer had calculated the likely position of a planet beyond Uranus, which at the time was the Sun’s most-distant known planet. Galle looked for the new planet that night – and found it: the planet Neptune. Le Verrier had calculated that Uranus wasn’t orbiting the Sun as expected. He decided that it was being nudged out of position by the gravity of another planet, farther from the Sun. He calculated the planet’s location, then sent his results to Berlin. British astronomer John Couch Adams had made similar calculations. He passed his results to his own colleagues. One of them searched for the planet, and saw it, in 1845 – but he didn’t realize it. So Adams usually is credited as a co-discoverer. But some research in recent years has suggested that his calculations were off, so there’s a debate about who discovered the Sun’s eighth planet. Appropriately enough, Neptune is at its best this week. It lines up opposite the Sun, so it’s closest to Earth, and shining at its brightest. But it’s so far away that you need a telescope to pick it out. It’s not far to the upper right of the bright planet Saturn, which is low in the east at nightfall. More tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

In Shakespeare’s play “Julius Caesar,” Caesar makes a bold proclamation: But I am constant as the northern star, / Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality / There is no fellow in the firmament. Caesar turned out to be not so constant, of course. And neither is the northern star. In fact, Earth sees a cycle of North Stars – a cycle that lasts for 26,000 years. The current North Star is Polaris. It stands almost due north. So from the northern hemisphere, all the other stars appear to wheel around it as Earth turns on its axis. But Polaris will slide away from that honored spot over the coming centuries. And about 1200 years from now, it’ll be replaced by Errai, in the constellation Cepheus the king. We go through a sequence of north stars because of a slow wobble in Earth’s axis – the result of the gravitational pull of the Sun and Moon. When you combine a star’s brightness and its proximity to true north, Polaris may be the best of them all. Errai appears only about a third as bright as Polaris, and it won’t get quite as close to due north. Even so, it will reign as the North Star for about 2,000 years, before passing the crown to another star in Cepheus. The king is high in the north at nightfall, to the upper right of Polaris. It looks like a child’s drawing of a house, although it’s upside down during the evening hours. Errai is the peak of the house’s roof – a future inconstant North Star. Script by Damond Benningfield

Two well-known star patterns highlight the northern sky this evening. The Big Dipper is low in the north-northwest at nightfall, and in the northeast at first light tomorrow. And W-shaped Cassiopeia is just the opposite – in the northeast at nightfall, and the north-northwest at dawn. As that sequence tells us, both star patterns make a big circle around the sky during the night. They circle the North Star, Polaris – the hub of the sky. All the stars in the northern sky appear to move around Polaris – the result of Earth turning on its axis. For much of the United States, the stars of the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia never set – they’re close enough to Polaris that they never drop below the horizon. So they’re in the sky every day and night of the year, endlessly circling the North Star. Such stars are called circumpolar. The number of such stars from any given location depends on your latitude. From 30 degrees north, anything within 30 degrees of Polaris always remains above the horizon. From 50 degrees north, it’s anything within 50 degrees of Polaris. So as you go farther north, more stars are circumpolar. And if you go all the way to the north pole, all the stars are circumpolar – nothing ever rises or sets. Each star follows the same path across the sky night after night – circling Polaris, the hub of the northern sky. Polaris won’t keep that position; we’ll talk about its successor tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

A thousand spacecraft could head for our closest neighboring planetary system in just a few decades. Don’t book your ticket just yet, though – each craft would weigh about as much as a penny. But working together, they could provide a few sharp pictures of the system, and even look for signs of life. A team of scientists and engineers published the idea earlier this year. The team proposed sending the probes to Proxima Centauri. It’s the closest star outside the solar system – four-and-a-quarter light-years away. And it has two confirmed planets. One of them is about the size and mass of Earth, and it’s in the region that’s most comfortable for life. The probes would be equipped with tough but thin “sails” 13 feet wide. A powerful laser would fire at each probe for eight minutes. The pressure of the light would boost the probes to 20 percent of the speed of light. It would take them 21 years to reach their target. The probes would use lasers to stay in touch with each other, and with Earth. About 300 probes could survive the trip. Their instruments could hunt for evidence of life in the planets’ atmospheres. There’s a lot of work to make it happen – advances in materials, lasers, computers, and even our knowledge of the distance to Proxima Centauri. But the researchers said the current rate of advancement should make such a trip feasible in the decades ahead. Script by Damond Benningfield

The winds on a giant planet more than 200 light-years from Earth are like the Big Bad Wolf: they’ll huff and puff and blow your house down. And if that’s not enough of a problem, the temperature can jump by 500 degrees in just a few hours. The planet orbits the star HD 80606. The star is a lot like the Sun. And it has a distant companion star that’s a near twin. They’re in Ursa Major, the great bear. At dawn, the system stands to the upper right of the Big Dipper, although you need a telescope to see it. The planet is HD 80606 b. It’s about four times the mass of Jupiter, the giant of our own solar system. But it’s about the same size as Jupiter, so it’s much denser. Its orbit is one of the most elongated of any known planet – its distance ranges from just three million miles to 85 million. As the planet approaches the star, it’s like being popped into an oven: The amount of energy it receives when it’s closest to the star is 800 times greater than when it’s farthest. So the planet heats up in a hurry. The approach also stirs up the winds. They blow outward from the point that’s in the middle of the hemisphere that faces the star. They may top out at 11,000 miles per hour – huffin’ and puffin’ all the way around this turbulent planet. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon huddles close to the heart of the scorpion this evening – the star Antares. It’s among the 15 brightest star systems in the night sky. If our eyes could see all forms of light, Antares would look perhaps 10 times brighter still. That’s because it emits most of its energy in the infrared – wavelengths that are too long for the human eye to perceive. All stars emit radiation across the electromagnetic spectrum – from radio waves to X-rays. That includes the Sun. But the mix of wavelengths depends on the star’s surface temperature, which we see as its color. Stars like the Sun are yellow-white. Their energy peaks at visible wavelengths – the type of energy our eyes have evolved to see. Stars that are hotter than the Sun look white or blue. But their light peaks beyond those colors – mainly in the ultraviolet – wavelengths that are much too short for us to see. Antares, on the other hand, is thousands of degrees cooler than the Sun, so it looks orange. But it emits most of its light in the infrared. And it produces a lot of it. The star is a supergiant – far bigger than the Sun. At visible wavelengths, it shines about 10,000 times brighter than the Sun. Throw in the infrared and all the other wavelengths, and it could be a hundred thousand times the Sun’s total brightness – one of the true stunners in our part of the galaxy. Tomorrow: A planetary Big Bad Wolf. Script by Damond Benningfield

The first planet ever discovered orbiting a Sun-like star is nothing like anything in our own solar system. But it helped astronomers learn more about the history of the solar system. The planet orbits 51 Pegasi. The star is a little bigger, heavier, and brighter than the Sun. The planet is 51 Pegasi b. It’s about half as heavy as Jupiter, the giant of the solar system. But it’s much closer in – just a few million miles from the star. The planet’s gravity causes the star’s light to “wobble” a bit. Precise measurements of that wobble revealed the planet’s details. Astronomers have since discovered hundreds more planets with the same technique, including many planets that are “hot Jupiters” like 51 Pegasi b. There’s no way for such a massive planet to form so close to its star. So it must have been born much farther out, then migrated to its current location. That realization led to theories that the Sun’s giant planets shifted around when the solar system was young. And that could have nudged the small inner planets, including Earth. It might even have pushed closer planets into the Sun – destroying some of Earth’s planetary siblings. Pegasus is in the east at nightfall. Look for four moderately bright stars that form the Great Square, which is tilted on its side. 51 Pegasi is along the top right side of the tilted square. Under dark skies, it’s barely visible to the eye alone. Script by Damond Benningfield

Pegasus has a bit of an identity crisis. The stars that outline its body – the Great Square – don’t all belong to the flying horse. In fact, the brightest of the four stars officially belongs to Andromeda. The Great Square is in the east at nightfall. Its member stars are all bright enough to see even through moderate light pollution. The square is tilted, so it looks more like a diamond than a square. Its brightest member forms the left point of the diamond – the star Alpheratz. It’s about a hundred light-years from Earth. And it consists of two stars, both of which are a good bit bigger, brighter, and heavier than the Sun. In earlier centuries, Alpheratz was considered a member of both Pegasus and Andromeda – it’s a prominent member of the classical outlines of both constellations. But in the early 20th century, astronomers decided to formalize the constellations. In 1930, they adopted a list of 88 constellations and gave them precise boundaries, like the borders of states or nations. That meant that every star could belong to only one constellation. The way the borders were drawn, Alpheratz stayed with Andromeda. There’s no way to not see the star as part of the Great Square. So unofficially, Alpheratz maintains its dual citizenship: the second-brightest star of Andromeda, and the brightest star of the Great Square of Pegasus. We’ll have more about the flying horse tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

The United States and China both plan to land astronauts on the Moon in the next few years. And scientists from both countries are working on the best landing sites – places that are safe and easy to operate from, but that offer some interesting science. One of China’s possible sites is just north of the equator, near the center of the hemisphere that faces Earth. It offers a range of geologic features, spanning almost all of lunar history. The site is known as Rimae Bode. It’s along the boundary between a smooth volcanic plain – the Sea of Vapors – and a more jumbled region in the lunar highlands. It features ancient lava flows, deep channels, layers of volcanic ash, and material blasted out of a nearby crater. Samples from these regions would help scientists piece together more than four billion years of impacts, volcanic activity, and other events. Planetary scientists are especially interested in the layers of ash, which also contain tiny glass beads. The material might have been blasted from deep below the surface billions of years ago. They would provide details about the Moon’s interior – hard-to-come-by insights into our satellite world. The crescent Moon teams up with the planet Venus in the early evening sky the next couple of nights. Venus is the brilliant “evening star.” But they’re quite low as twilight fades, so there’s not a lot of time to enjoy the view before they set. Script by Damond Benningfield

The roster of constellations includes some weird and wonderful creatures. There’s a dragon, a unicorn, and two centaurs. But perhaps the weirdest of all is Capricornus, the sea-goat – it’s half goat and half fish. It’s associated with the god Pan, who was half goat and half man. The story says that he was about to be attacked by the monster Typhon, so he jumped into the water to escape. At the same time, he tried to transform himself into a fish to speed his getaway. But he botched the spell, and turned his human half into a fish, but kept the half that was a goat. The constellation is low in the southeast as darkness falls at this time of year. Its brightest stars form a wide triangle. None of the sea-goat’s stars is all that bright, though, so you need a fairly dark sky to make them out. The brightest forms the left point of the triangle. It’s known as Deneb Algedi – “the tail of the goat.” It’s actually a system of at least two stars. One is about twice as big and heavy as the Sun, and shines several times brighter. The other is a lot like the Sun. The stars orbit each other about once a day. As they do, each one passes in front of the other for a bit. When the fainter star crosses the brighter one, the system’s overall brightness drops by about a quarter. That’s just enough for a skilled observer to notice with the eye alone – a slight flicker in one of the night sky’s oddest creatures. Script by Damond Benningfield

Young star systems are dangerous places. A planet can be pelted by giant asteroids and comets. It can collide with its siblings, and be kicked out of the system by close encounters with other siblings. It might even be swallowed by its parent star. Astronomers in the U.K. recently found evidence of such encounters in several young stars. The researchers zeroed in on stars in three clusters. All of the clusters are young – from about 40 million to 200 million years old. At that age, their star systems might still be chaotic – planets might be getting blasted or destroyed, and they might still be taking shape. Six stars in the clusters showed especially high amounts of lithium. It’s a common planet-building material. But it’s fragile – stars quickly destroy it. So any lithium in the stars must have been added recently. The most likely source is young, rocky planets. The planets could have been kicked inward by the gravity of other planets, or dragged in by gas and dust around the stars. Over time, the remains churn deep into a star’s interior. But some can linger for a few million years – the remains of dead planets. One of the clusters is Blanco 1. It’s 850 light-years away, in the constellation Sculptor. It climbs into the southeast in mid evening, to the lower left of the bright star Fomalhaut. It’s too faint to see with the eye alone, but it’s a decent target for small telescopes. Script by Damond Benningfield

To borrow from an advertising campaign, Jupiter is “getting the red out.” Its enormous “eye” – the Great Red Spot – has been shrinking. It’s now just a third as wide as when it was first seen, and it’s getting smaller all the time. The Great Red Spot is one of the most recognizable features in the solar system. But scientists still don’t know that much about it. They don’t know for sure how it formed, why it’s shrinking, or even why it’s red. They have lots of ideas, but no certain answers. The spot was discovered as early as 1831. There were suggestions that it was seen much earlier, but those sightings might have been a different feature. The spot has been tracked on a regular basis since 1878. It’s between two powerful jet streams. They prevent it from wandering to different latitudes. It tops out several miles above the surrounding clouds, and extends at least 150 miles below the clouds. In the late 19th century, the spot was a long oval – about as tall as Earth, but three times as wide. Today, it’s roughly the same size as Earth. And the rate of shrinkage has been increasing. So it’s possible that it could disappear entirely within a few decades. Look for Jupiter close below the Moon at dawn tomorrow. It looks like a brilliant star. The Great Red Spot is visible through a telescope, but whether it’s visible from a particular location depends on the timing. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon anchors a prominent triangle in tomorrow’s early-morning sky. The pattern is well up in the east at first light. The stars Pollux and Castor – the twins of Gemini – line up to the upper left of the Moon, with Mars to the upper right. The brilliant planet Jupiter stands well below the triangle. Mars and Pollux are almost exactly the same brightness right now. And they’re the same color: orange. But they achieve that color in different ways. Mars is a planet – a ball of rock and metal that’s smaller than Earth. Its color comes from iron oxide – particles of rust – in the rocks and dust that cover most of its surface. The rust probably formed when iron-rich rocks interacted with liquid water on the surface. But there’s no water on the surface today. So the rocks must have rusted billions of years ago, when Mars was much warmer and wetter than it is today. As the rocks eroded, the Martian winds carried the dust around the globe – enhancing the color of the Red Planet. Pollux, on the other hand, is a star. It completed the prime phase of life, then puffed up to giant proportions – about nine times wider than the Sun. As it expanded, it got cooler. And a star’s color is determined by its surface temperature; cool stars look red or orange. So just by looking at it, we can tell that Pollux is thousands of degrees cooler than the Sun. We’ll talk about the Moon and Jupiter tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

Some of the most imposing features on Mars are its giant volcanoes. The largest is Olympus Mons. It’s more than 13 miles high, and covers an area as big as New Mexico. It’s part of the largest complex of volcanoes on the planet – a region called Tharsis Ridge. The second-largest group is on Elysium Rise. Its largest member is Elysium Mons. It’s the fourth-highest mountain on the planet. It has an elevation of about 10 miles above the Martian equivalent of “sea level,” and it towers about eight miles above the surrounding plains. Like the other major volcanoes, it’s extinct – or at least dormant. It probably hasn’t erupted in hundreds of millions of years. It formed over billions of years, from layers of lava and ash. It’s marred by many craters. Some of them are impact craters, carved by giant space rocks. Others may be volcanic vents, formed by side eruptions of gas or lava. The volcanoes on Mars have grown so big mainly because there are no plate tectonics. Once a pool of magma forces its way to the surface, it just keeps going – the crust above it doesn’t move away. So there’s no “cut-off” valve – the volcano erupts as long as there’s molten rock below to keep feeding it – building some giant mountains on the Red Planet. Mars appears below the Moon in tomorrow’s early morning sky. It looks like a fairly bright orange star. More about the Moon and its companions tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

Little Red Dots might be like Tootsie Roll Pops: colorful on the outside, dark on the inside. They may consist of a glowing cloud of gas and dust encircling a supermassive black hole. And they could be telling us about the birth of the first big black holes in the universe. Little Red Dots were first seen in 2022, by Webb Space Telescope. Since then, it’s discovered hundreds of them. They’re compact but extremely bright. And they’re so far away that we see them when the universe was no more than about one-tenth of its current age. Astronomers have proposed several explanations for them. One is the idea of a black hole surrounded by gas and dust. A recent study looked at a dot that was behind a huge cluster of galaxies. The cluster’s gravity magnified the view of the dot, making it easier to suss out its details. Its heart is a black hole about 50 million times the mass of the Sun. The surrounding cloud is no more than half that mass. As material in the cloud funnels inward, it gets hot, lighting up the rest of the cloud. The gas and dust absorb blue light, so we see only red. Astronomers have pondered the formation of early galaxies for decades. They’ve wondered whether the giant black holes in their hearts formed first, or if the galaxy came first and the black hole formed later. The new finding suggests that, in at least some cases, the black hole came first – born at the heart of a Little Red Dot. Script by Damond Benningfield

In the past decade, astronomers have “heard” almost 400 mergers between black holes. The signals were carried by gravitational waves – tiny ripples in spacetime. They’ve revealed that some of the black holes probably had undergone earlier mergers – making them third-generation black holes. Gravitational waves are produced by the motions of any object. But the waves are extremely weak. So far, the only ones that have been detected were produced by mergers involving black holes or neutron stars – dense, heavy objects that come together in a fraction of a second. The characteristics of the waves reveal the masses of the merging objects. They also reveal how the objects were spinning, and how they were orbiting before the merger. And those details provide hints to the existence of third-generation black holes. One example was discovered in late 2024. A black hole about 20 times the mass of the Sun merged with one about six times the Sun’s mass. Scientists determined that the heavier black hole probably formed from an earlier merger. They even calculated the details of those black holes: about 7 and 13 times the mass of the Sun. Third-generation black holes probably form in places where lots of black holes are jammed close together, such as the hearts of star clusters. That keeps a merged black hole from escaping – setting up the possibility of more mergers ahead. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon charges at the Pleiades late tonight. As seen from most of the United States, it will pass especially close to the star cluster – either just skimming its edge or briefly covering some of its stars. The cluster is home to more than a thousand stars of all varieties. The ones that are visible to the eye alone are especially big, hot, and bright. But they’re greatly outnumbered by stars that are much smaller, cooler, and fainter. Many of the stars belong to systems of two stars or more. And the cluster also hosts many “brown dwarfs” – objects that are more massive than planets, but not heavy enough to shine as true stars. Over the decades, there’s been a lively debate about the distance to the cluster. Different telescopes and techniques have provided measurements that vary by many light-years. The best current number puts the distance at about 440 light-years. But that’s the distance to the center of the Pleiades. The cluster actually spans several dozen light-years in all directions. So as you look at the cluster, the light you see from the stars that are closest to Earth headed our way dozens of years earlier than the light from the stars that are farthest – an out-of-sync view of a well-known star cluster. The cluster’s brightest stars form a tiny dipper shape, although it’ll be tough to make out through the moonlight. The cluster will be especially close to the Moon at dawn. Script by Damond Benningfield

The center of the Milky Way Galaxy is packed with treasures: stars, dead stars, gas clouds, and lots of planets. And a new space telescope will spend a lot of its time sorting it all out. That’s one of several big projects for Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope, NASA’s next big space observatory. The telescope will see the heavens as clearly as Hubble Space Telescope does. But its view will be much wider. And it’ll study the universe mainly in the infrared – wavelengths that are invisible to the human eye. Roman will tackle some of the biggest problems in modern science. As one example, it’ll look away from the center of the Milky Way to study more than a billion other galaxies, and to look for exploding stars. That combination will help us understand how the universe is expanding – a key for deciphering the mystery of dark energy. The telescope’s survey of the center of the galaxy could reveal thousands of new planets. And a special instrument – using a technique proposed by Nancy Roman herself – could provide images of some of those planets. A planet will appear only as a bright dot, with no detail. But breaking down its light will tell us a bit about the planet’s size, temperature, and composition. The center of the Milky Way is in Sagittarius, which is low in the south at nightfall. Its brightest stars outline a teapot. The heart of the galaxy is in the steam above the spout of the teapot. Script by Damond Benningfield

The planet Venus and the star Spica huddle close the next few evenings. They’re quite low in the west-southwest in early twilight. Venus is the brilliant “evening star.” Tonight, Spica stands close above it. Venus will slide to the left of Spica over the following nights. Venus is named for the Roman goddess of love and beauty. It’s the only major planet in the solar system named for a female character. With a few exceptions, all of the features on its surface are named for women as well – from both mythology and real life. No features were named until the Space Age. Venus is covered by an unbroken blanket of clouds, so we can’t see the surface. Radio telescopes on Earth peered through the clouds in the ’60s, and discovered the first known features. All the other features were mapped by spacecraft in orbit around Venus, which scanned the planet with radar. Today, more than 2,000 features have been named – mountains, craters, canyons, plains, and others. Their names have come from cultures around the world and across the ages. One volcano is named Anuket, for an Egyptian river goddess, while another is named La Shen for a Chinese goddess. Other features are named for Anne Frank, Jane Austen, Pocahontas, and Queen Isabella of Spain, along with other writers, artists, rulers, scientists, and women from many other fields – all commemorated on the planet Venus. Script by Damond Benningfield

If you look carefully at pictures of Saturn, you’ll probably notice something odd about the planet – it looks mashed down, like a beachball that a child is sitting on. The planet is more than 7,000 miles wider through the equator than the poles – only a bit less than the total diameter of Earth. That makes it the “flattest” planet in the solar system. Saturn is the Sun’s second-largest planet, after Jupiter – more than nine times the size of Earth. But it’s much less dense than any other planet. It’s a big ball of hydrogen and helium – the two lightest elements – wrapped around a messy core of rock and metal. Despite its size, Saturn spins in a hurry – its day is less than half as long as a day on Earth. That high-speed rotation pushes material outward at the equator – giving Saturn that “squashed” appearance. That shape affects the planet’s gravity. Saturn’s poles are much closer to the center of the planet than the equator is. And anything at the equator is being pushed outward by the high-speed rotation. The combination means that you’d weigh about a third more at the poles than at the equator – perhaps making you feel more squashed on this giant but squashed planet. Look for Saturn close to the lower right of the Moon as they climb into good view, in mid-evening. It looks like a bright golden star. Tomorrow: famous women on the planet Venus. Script by Damond Benningfield

The world’s top tennis players will spend many hours under the lights over the next two weeks. And thanks to some changes made a couple of years ago, almost all of the light will shine down on them – not into the sky. The U.S. Open is played on 17 tournament courts and five practice courts in Queens, New York. Many of the sessions take place at night. But conventional outdoor lighting directs a lot of light into the sky, producing light pollution. To reduce the glow, the venue replaced its lighting in 2024. The new L-E-D fixtures are shaped and shielded so that almost all of their light shines down onto the courts. The change was certified as “dark-sky friendly” by DarkSky International, a group that’s been encouraging better outdoor lightning for 25 years. Cities, parks, and other places get certified by changing their lighting, and enacting policies designed to keep night skies dark. In all, the group has certified more than 270 sites around the world. And since 2019, it’s certified more than 40 sports venues, most of them in the U.S. – from Texarkana to Waukesha, Wisconsin, and from Seattle to Panama City, Florida. Light pollution does more than just ruin the view of the night sky. It can interfere with the migration of birds, sea turtles, and other animals. It wastes energy and money. And it can hurt people’s health. So reducing light pollution is a winning strategy. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon will ply the dark waters of the celestial sea the next few nights – a large region of sky that’s populated by constellations related to water. Tonight, the Moon sails from Aquarius the water bearer into Pisces, the fishes. Pisces is so long that the Moon will remain inside its borders until Monday night. The “sea” consists of six major constellations. Together, they cover almost one-eighth of the entire sky. All of them were created thousands of years ago by cultures around the Mediterranean Sea. The constellations probably were associated with water because the Sun passed across them during the rainy season. Like the open ocean on a moonless night, the entire region is dark – most of its stars are quite faint. The brightest of the lot is Fomalhaut. It’s in Piscis Austrinus, the southern fish. The star climbs into view in the southeast in early evening, and swims across the south during the night. It’s bright on its own, but the lack of other bright lights around it makes it really stand out. Pisces is especially dark. Most of its stars are impossible to see from light-polluted cities, or even the suburbs. And with the almost-full Moon passing through, it’s hard to see any of its stars even from sites that are far away from city lights. So as the Moon moves across the constellation, it looks like it’s floating through an ocean of darkness – the cosmic waters of the celestial sea. Script by Damond Benningfield

A season comes to an end today. It has nothing to do with falling leaves, changing weather, or even big-time sports. Instead, it’s a season of eclipses. It didn’t last long – it started on August 12th, with a total solar eclipse, and it ends tonight, with a partial lunar eclipse. The Moon will be almost completely immersed in Earth’s long shadow, so it’ll turn dark. And at least part of the eclipse will be visible across almost all of North America. An eclipse season is governed by the way in which the Sun and Moon align. Most months, the geometry isn’t right – the Moon and Sun don’t line up the right way, so there are no eclipses at all. But every 173 days, they come into the proper alignment. That produces a solar eclipse at new Moon, and a lunar eclipse at full Moon. They can come in either order, a fortnight apart. And a season lasts for about five weeks – a few days longer than the Moon’s cycle of phases. So if there’s an eclipse near the start of the season, it produces three eclipses. This time, the solar eclipse came a few days after the season began, so we’re limited to two eclipses – including tonight’s. The Moon first dips into Earth’s dark inner shadow at 9:34 p.m. Central Time. The eclipse peaks at 11:13, when the shadow covers 96 percent of the lunar disk. It ends an hour and a half later. Script by Damond Benningfield

The full Moon won’t look quite itself for part of tomorrow night. That’s because it’ll pass through Earth’s long shadow, creating a partial eclipse. At its peak, the shadow will cover all but a sliver of the lunar disk. That will darken the surface, with sunlight that filters through Earth’s atmosphere adding an orange or red tint. Lunar eclipses occur only at full Moon, when the Moon lines up directly opposite the Sun. The Moon’s orbit around Earth is tilted a bit, so most months the Moon passes above or below the shadow. But at least twice a year, the geometry is just right, and the Moon plunges into the shadow. This eclipse is only partial, not total. That means the angle isn’t quite perfect, so the Moon won’t be fully immersed in the shadow. But it’ll be hard to tell much of a difference – the shadow will cover 96 percent of the lunar disk. At least part of the eclipse will be visible from almost the entire United States. It gets started at 8:24 p.m. Central Daylight Time, when Earth’s outer shadow first touches the Moon. It’s so faint that you might not even notice it. But you will notice the partial eclipse, when the Moon enters the dark inner shadow. That starts at 9:34 p.m., peaks at 11:13, and ends at 12:52 a.m. on Friday. More about the eclipse tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

As the roster of known planets in other star systems grows, astronomers learn a lot more about planets and stars in general. One key finding is that almost all stars are still infants when their planets form. A planet is born from a disk of gas and dust around the newborn star. Solid particles stick together to form larger and larger bodies. They eventually form a chunk of rock and metal that can be much more massive than Earth. If these embryos are far enough from the star, where conditions are cold, they may sweep up vast amounts of leftover gas to form giant worlds. Observations of infant stars and planets suggest that most planets take shape within 10 million years or so. By then, the star’s radiation and winds have cleared away most of the raw ingredients for making planets. That leaves only the planets and some leftover “building blocks.” The gravity of the giant planets kicks many of the building blocks out of the system. But others remain, forming asteroids and comets. The planetary system isn’t in its final form by then. Gravitational interactions can cause a planet to move toward or away from the star, change the angle of its orbit, or even get kicked out of the system. And the asteroids and comets can pound the young planets – perhaps giving birth to moons. So while planets form quickly, they continue to evolve throughout the lifetime of their star system. Script by Damond Benningfield

Of the thousands of planets that have been discovered in other star systems, only a few orbit stars that are easy to see with the eye alone. Most of the stars are so faint or so far away that they just fade into the firmament. One exception is Hamal, the brightest star of Aries, the ram. It climbs into view, in the east-northeast, by mid-evening. It’s about 66 light-years away, but it’s bright enough that it’s easy to see from all but the most light-polluted cities. Hamal is so bright because it’s completed the “prime” phase of life – a phase known as the “main sequence.” Now it’s in the next phase, as a giant. It’s puffed up to about 15 times the diameter of the Sun, making it much brighter. Hamal has one confirmed planet – Hamal b. It, too, is a big ‘un – it’s almost twice as massive as Jupiter, the giant of our own solar system. But the planet is only a little farther from Hamal than Earth is from the Sun. So every square inch of the surface receives about 10 times more energy than the same-sized patch of Earth. As a result of that bombardment, Hamal b is extremely hot. That makes it highly unlikely to host any form of life – at least not like any life on Earth. And if it ever did have life, it probably perished as Hamal expanded and brightened. So Hamal b isn’t a good place to go hunting for neighbors. We’ll have more about planets in other star systems tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

Jupiter is climbing away from the Sun, moving a little higher into the dawn sky day by day. Right now, it’s quite low in the east as twilight paints the sky. But it’s also quite bright, so if you have a clear horizon, you’ll be able to pick it out. Despite appearances, Jupiter isn’t really close to the Sun at all. It looks close only because of the relative positions of Jupiter and Earth. As seen from Earth, Jupiter passed behind the Sun in late July, so it was hidden in the Sun’s glare for several weeks. But Earth follows a smaller, faster orbit around the Sun. Now, we’re looping around toward Jupiter. We’ll catch up to it and pass it next February. So Jupiter will rise earlier and remain in view longer every day until then. Jupiter repeats this cycle every 13 months. In other words, wherever it appears in the sky now, it’ll be in a similar position 13 months later. But it won’t appear against the same background of stars. It takes Jupiter almost 12 years to orbit the Sun, so it takes that long for it to complete one full circle through the constellations. On average, it shifts eastward by about one constellation per year. So while it’s currently in Cancer, by the next time it graces the dawn sky, next September, it’ll be one constellation over, in Leo. Again, look for Jupiter low in the east during the dawn twilight, and climbing higher into the sky morning by morning. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Sun narrowly skirts by the heart of the lion today and tomorrow – the star Regulus. At their closest, they’ll be separated by just a fraction of a degree. After that, the Sun will slide across Leo for almost four weeks before moving into Virgo. That may surprise those whose astrological sign is Virgo. The Sun is supposed to cross into Virgo tomorrow. That highlights two points: the difference between the “signs” and the constellations, and the Sun’s changing position relative to both. The constellations of the zodiac were drawn thousands of years ago. They were based on connect-the-dots patterns of stars, not formal boundaries. The constellations are different sizes, so the Sun spends different amounts of time crossing each one. On average, though, with 12 months and 12 constellations, the Sun spent a month in each. So astrology divided the zodiac into 12 equal slices. That meant the Sun spent an equal amount of time in each sign, regardless of the size of the constellation itself. But the Sun shifts position relative to the background of the stars. So today, the signs and constellations are out of sync by about a month. And in the early 20th century, astronomers assigned formal borders to the constellations. So the Sun spends from about a week to more than five weeks crossing each constellation. And the way the borders are set up, it actually crosses 13 of them – including Leo. Script by Damond Benningfield

The space around our solar system is cloudy. Astronomers have mapped 15 individual clouds within a few hundred light-years. The clouds are moving in different directions, and they have different mixtures of ingredients. Some of those ingredients were forged by exploding stars. Over the past few years, scientists have used one of those ingredients to trace the solar system’s path through the Local Interstellar Cloud. It’s about 30 light-years across, and we’re close to its edge – perhaps in the transition zone with the next cloud. The scientists have looked at a radioactive form of iron that’s produced when a massive star explodes as a supernova. The explosion scatters the atoms, creating clouds of debris – including iron-rich dust grains. As Earth flies through a cloud, it sweeps up some of the dust, which falls to the surface. The scientists have found the iron in sediments on the bottom of the ocean, and in fresh snow in Antarctica. And recently, they found it in layers of ice deposited 40,000 to 80,000 years ago, also in the Antarctic. Those samples fell to Earth before the others did. And they have lower amounts of the radioactive iron. That could mean that Earth was just entering the Local Cloud during that period. The amount of iron went up as we passed deeper into the cloud. Now, the amount is going down again – perhaps heralding the solar system’s exit from the Local Cloud. Script by Damond Benningfield

Antares is a class M star. That means its surface is thousands of degrees cooler than the surface of the Sun. The lower temperature makes it look reddish orange – a color that’s easy to see with the eye alone. Every dark orange or red star you can see in the night sky falls into class M. But none of those stars is anything like the Sun. They’re all giants or supergiants – stars that are much bigger than the Sun. And Antares is one of the biggest of them all – hundreds of times wider than the Sun, and tens of thousands of times brighter. Such stars have completed the prime phase of life, so they’ve puffed up to many times their original size. As they got bigger, their surfaces got cooler and redder. But these big guys aren’t even the tip of the class-M iceberg – they’re more like a small patch of snow on top of the iceberg. Class M may incorporate half or more of all the stars in the galaxy. That includes the Sun’s closest neighbor, Proxima Centauri, which is just four-and-a-quarter light-years away. But almost all of these “red dwarfs” are much smaller and fainter than the Sun. In fact, they’re so faint that not even one of them is visible to the unaided eye. So any time you see a red star, you’re seeing a monster – one of the bigger stars in the galaxy. Look for Antares quite near the Moon this evening – a supergiant star at the head of its class. Tomorrow: going dark. Script by Damond Benningfield

All is not well with the universe – or at least our understanding of it. There’s growing evidence, for example, that “dark energy” might not behave the way scientists had thought. And that behavior might control the universe’s fate. Dark energy was discovered three decades ago. It may account for two-thirds of all the matter and energy in the universe. And it appears to cause the universe to expand faster as it ages. So far, no one knows for sure what dark energy really is. One idea is that it’s “constant” – perhaps a property of space itself. As the universe expands, it creates more space, so there’s more dark energy. But no more matter is created. The existing matter spreads out, so the effect of its gravity gets weaker. Dark energy then becomes even more dominant, making the universe expand faster and faster. But some recent studies suggest that dark energy might not be constant – it might change over time. If so, then the universe might not expand forever. One study says the universe could end in 20 billion years. Over the final few billion, gravity would take control, pulling everything into a Big Crunch. All the stars and galaxies would smash together. Finally, everything would merge to form a single black hole. After that, perhaps the universe could rebound in another sort of Big Bang. But that universe would be quite different – a universe that we can’t even begin to understand. Script by Damond Benningfield

In the mythology of ancient Egypt, the universe began when a great god emerged from the void. He created the air and the divine order of the world. And they gave birth to the land and sky. That’s one of countless creation stories – attempts to explain the birth of the universe. To modern science, the best explanation is the Big Bang, an instant of creation 13.8 billion years ago. Several pieces of evidence support the Big Bang. For one, on the largest scales, galaxies are all racing away from each other. If you trace the motion back in time, everything comes together in a single point. For another, the Big Bang left its “fingerprints” on the universe – an afterglow known as the cosmic microwave background. It was created when the early universe had cooled enough for light to travel freely. As the universe expanded, the afterglow shifted to radio wavelengths, which we see in every direction. One more bit of evidence is the way elements are created. According to the theory, the Big Bang itself created hydrogen and helium, the simplest elements. Later, the first stars “fused” those elements together to make heavier ones. Over time, the percentage of heavy elements has increased as stars make more of them and release them into space. And that’s just what astronomers observe when they look into the universe – a steady build-up of heavier elements, dating to the beginning of time. More tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

The universe consists of everything we can see, plus a whole lot more – all matter and energy, space and time. It was born 13.8 billion years ago, in the Big Bang. It’s been expanding and changing ever since. We don’t know how big it is – it might be infinite. We’re not sure how it will end. And we don’t even know what most of it is made of. Universe comes from a Latin word that means “combined into one.” It’s been described as everything that is, that ever has been, and that ever will be. When the universe was born, it consisted almost entirely of hydrogen and helium, the simplest chemical elements. Some of those elements came together to make the first stars, which clumped together to form galaxies. As the first stars aged, they created heavier elements, which were incorporated into later stars. Some of those elements formed planets, and even the life on Earth. But most of the universe is hidden. About two-thirds of everything in the universe consists of dark energy. We don’t know what it is – only that it’s making the universe expand faster. About a quarter of the universe consists of dark matter. We don’t know what it is, either – perhaps some type of exotic particle. Everything else – all the stars and galaxies and energy that we can see and experience – makes up just five percent of the universe – the bare tip of the cosmic iceberg. More tomorrow. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Artemis II astronauts got to see something that only 24 other people have seen with their own eyes: the far side of the Moon. As they looped behind the Moon, the astronauts could see almost the entire hemisphere that remains hidden from those of us on Earth. The Moon is “locked” so that one hemisphere always faces our planet – a result of the same process that creates ocean tides. We didn’t get our first glimpse of the farside until 1959, when a Soviet probe snapped a picture. The two lunar hemispheres look different. While dark volcanic plains cover about a third of the nearside, they cover just one percent of the farside. The farside is more heavily cratered. And the crust on the farside is thicker. That could be the result of a gentle “splat” by a smaller moon when the Moon was young. The farside often is called the dark side of the Moon – “dark” as in unknown or unseen. It actually receives just as much sunlight as the nearside does. But the nights are darker there. From the nearside, Earth is in view most of the time, brightening the nights. But Earth is never seen from the farside. So the nights are illuminated only by the stars – making the dark side of the Moon a really good spot for stargazing. The crescent Moon is low in the west in early evening. The planet Venus, the “evening star,” is close to its right. And the star Spica is even closer above the Moon. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon is lumpy. In fact, its gravity is the lumpiest of any body in the solar system. That makes it tricky for spacecraft to maintain the right speed and altitude as they orbit the Moon. The lumps are known as mass concentrations – “mascons.” They were discovered by Lunar Orbiter 1, which arrived at the Moon 60 years ago. You can’t see them – only feel their gravitational pull. Lunar Orbiter was designed to survey possible landing sites for Apollo astronauts. But as it circled the Moon, its orbit changed in unexpected ways. As it flew over some parts of the Moon, it sped up a little and dropped closer to the surface. The same effect was seen in the orbits of later missions as well. The effect could be dramatic. Apollo 16 left a small satellite in orbit in April of 1972. It was supposed to stay in orbit for several months. Instead, it crashed after just one month. Many of the mascons are associated with giant impact basins. They formed when asteroids slammed into the Moon long ago. Dense molten rock bubbled up below the scars, then cooled and hardened. This rock is denser than the surrounding rock. That makes its gravitational pull a little stronger. Today, we have good maps of the mascons – allowing satellites to escape their fatal attraction. The crescent Moon is quite low in the sky as twilight fades the next couple of nights. Venus, the “evening star,” stands close by. Script by Damond Benningfield

The first of a series of lunar “spy” satellites entered orbit around the Moon 60 years ago today. There wasn’t any secret about it – it was conducted in full public view. But its camera system was adapted from one built for an Air Force spy satellite. Lunar Orbiter 1 was the first American spacecraft to orbit the Moon – a half-dozen earlier attempts had all failed. Its main goal was to snap high-resolution pictures of possible landing sites for Apollo astronauts. But it would also map a good portion of the lunar surface, and take a close-up look at a few spots on the far side. And it would measure the Moon’s gravitational and magnetic fields. Its camera system used two lenses – one for close-ups, the other for wider views. The images were recorded on 65-millimeter film, then processed in an on-board lab. Finally, they were scanned and transmitted to Earth. Eastman Kodak had created the camera system for a spy satellite called SAMOS. But for that craft, the film was dropped back to Earth, where it was grabbed by an airplane as it parachuted toward the surface – something they couldn’t do from a quarter of a million miles away. Lunar Orbiter 1 took more than 200 pictures. They were combined with the images from four successor missions to produce the most comprehensive atlas of the lunar surface to that time. And scientists continue to study the images today. Script by Damond Benningfield

A stellar vanishing act led to a revelation about an iceball far from the Sun: It has a thin atmosphere. It’s the smallest object with a known atmosphere in the entire solar system. The object is 2002 XV93. It’s in the Kuiper Belt – a wide “doughnut” beyond the orbit of Neptune, the Sun’s outermost major planet. The belt contains millions of icy bodies, including Pluto. XV93 is about 300 miles in diameter – just one-fifth as big as Pluto. Astronomers in Japan watched the little iceball in January of 2024. They’d calculated that XV93 would pass in front of a star, hiding the star from view. As they watched the star disappear, it didn’t blink out instantly. Instead, it dimmed a bit before it passed behind XV93. And it took a moment to reach full brightness when it returned to view. That meant that something was partially obscuring the star: an atmosphere. It’s only about one percent as thick as Pluto’s atmosphere, which is a bare wisp. XV93’s gravity is extremely weak, so it can’t hang on to any atmosphere for long. So the gases might vent into space from its interior, which would keep the atmosphere going. Or they might have surrounded the object after it was hit by a small comet. In that case, the atmosphere would start to vanish quickly – eventually leaving XV93 airless. Script by Damond Benningfield

After teaming up with the Sun to produce a solar eclipse today, the Moon will make another skywatching spectacle possible tonight – the Perseid meteor shower. It’s expected to be at its peak tonight. And since the Moon is new, it won’t be around to interfere with the sparklers. The Perseids occur every August, as Earth flies through the orbital path of Comet Swift-Tuttle. The comet is a ball of frozen gases mixed with bits of rock and metal. As it approaches the Sun, some of its gas vaporizes. That releases some of the heavier material, known as comet dust. As Earth zips through this material, some of the dust grains slam into our atmosphere at more than a hundred thousand miles per hour. They vaporize instantly, creating meteors – streaks of light across the sky. Swift-Tuttle returned to the inner solar system a third of a century ago. That was its first appearance since the Civil War, so the Perseids were especially good for a while. With the comet retreating into the outer solar system, though, there’s less comet dust to feed the shower. The meteors enter the atmosphere from the direction of Perseus – hence the name. But they can streak across any part of the sky, so you don’t have to look to a specific region to see them. To view the Perseids, find a safe, dark observing site away from the pesky glare of city lights. Then watch the sky for cosmic sparklers. Script by Damond Benningfield

The top of the world will see a total solar eclipse tomorrow. A partial eclipse will encompass a wider slice of the globe, including Alaska and parts of the northeastern United States. A solar eclipse occurs when the Moon passes directly between Earth and the Sun, blocking the Sun from view. The Sun’s hot but faint outer atmosphere, the corona, looks like silvery tendrils radiating away from the Moon. This eclipse begins when the lunar shadow first touches Earth, over northeastern Russia. The eclipse path then passes near the north pole, slides across parts of Greenland and Iceland, and finally over northern Spain before vanishing over the Mediterranean Sea. At its peak, off the coast of Iceland, totality will last for 2 minutes, 18 seconds. A partial eclipse, where the Moon covers only a portion of the solar disk, will flank that path. In addition to parts of North America, it’ll encompass much of western Europe and western Africa. From far-northern Alaska, the Moon will cover more than half of the Sun’s disk, at about 8:30 a.m. From Anchorage, about a quarter of the Sun will be covered. And from the northeast, the greatest eclipse takes place in northern Maine, shortly before 2 p.m. If you’re in one of those areas, remember to protect your eyes. Watch the eclipse only through special glasses or dark welder’s glass, and never look at the unfiltered Sun. Script by Damond Benningfield

A total solar eclipse is coming up on Wednesday. The Moon will cover the Sun, turning day to night across a narrow slice of the globe. Parts of Alaska and the northeastern United States will see a partial eclipse. The timing of the eclipse is known down to the second, and has been for decades; astronomers can predict eclipses far into the future. But making such predictions isn’t easy. It requires a detailed knowledge of the Moon’s orbit around Earth, Earth’s orbit around the Sun, and even the shapes of Earth and the Moon. Just when the first prediction was made is unclear. There’s no doubt that people have been predicting lunar eclipses for thousands of years. But they’re easier to forecast. Earth’s shadow is roughly 35 times wider than the Moon’s, so you don’t need to be quite as precise to get it right. There are stories that the Chinese were predicting solar eclipses more than 4,000 years ago, but no confirmation. An eclipse in 585 BC that stopped a war supposedly was predicted by a Greek scientist. But many present-day scientists doubt that. The first confirmed prediction was made by Edmond Halley, using the laws of gravity recently devised by Isaac Newton. Halley forecast that an eclipse would cross England on May 3rd, 1715. And he was right. So the event is known as Halley’s Eclipse – honoring the prediction of an astronomical spectacle. Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon forms a nice triangle with the twins of Gemini at dawn tomorrow – the stars Castor and Pollux. Castor is to the left of the Moon, with brighter Pollux about the same distance to the lower left. Castor consists of six known stars. We haven’t found planets orbiting any of them. Pollux is a single star. And it has one likely planet – a giant that’s much heavier than any of the planets in our own solar system. The planet was discovered 20 years ago, by astronomers at McDonald Observatory. They’d seen evidence of the star earlier, but they couldn’t confirm it. The planet is known as Pollux b. It also has a formal name – Thestias – a variation of the name of Pollux’s mother in Greek mythology. The planet is almost three times the mass of Jupiter, the Sun’s largest planet. It’s farther from Pollux than Earth is from the Sun. But that’s much too close for the planet to be habitable. That’s because Pollux has passed beyond the prime phase of life. It’s puffed up to about nine times the Sun’s diameter, so it’s much brighter than the Sun. That extra energy makes Thestias much too hot to have liquid water at its surface – a key ingredient for life. The temperature could have been more comfortable in the past. The planet itself probably is a big ball of gas – not a good place to live. But if it has any moons, it’s possible that they could have offered better environments for life. Script by Damond Benningfield

Mars and the Moon hang out in tomorrow’s early-morning sky. Mars looks like a bright star to the right of the Moon at first light. The Moon is a thin crescent, and it’s getting thinner by the day. That means the Moon is about to cross between Earth and the Sun, so the Sun is lighting up less of the lunar hemisphere that faces our way. But you can make out the nighttime part of the disk because it’s lit up by earthshine – sunlight reflected from Earth. If anyone were standing on that part of the Moon, the earthshine would be bright enough to read by. That’s because Earth is in its gibbous phase – it’s almost fully in daylight. Earth is much bigger than the Moon, and its surface is much more reflective. So a gibbous Earth is dozens of times brighter than a gibbous Moon. From Mars, both Earth and the Moon appear gibbous. That’s because Earth and Mars line up more or less on opposite sides of the Sun. But over time, Earth and the Moon would appear to go through a full cycle of phases, just as the Moon does as seen from Earth. And their phase would always be the same. As the Moon orbits Earth, the angle between them would vary. So sometimes, Earth and the Moon would appear so close together that they’d form a single bright point. But at their widest separation, it would be easy to see them as individual points, with Earth especially bright, and the Moon a good bit fainter. Script by Damond Benningfield